Savior of The Skies: Mark x Cordelia 100 Themes Challenge
by AcetoJack21
Summary: A Companion piece to Awakening Ablaze, though this work will also be able to stand alone. See the 100 part saga of a gallant flyer and the strategist with the fate of wars on his shoulder, updated daily (in theory). Mostly out of boredom and desire for practice. Criticism is highly appreciated.
1. Introduction

The Exault had already left, returning to the capital to confront Gangral. The Sheppards were left standing there, on the path between the capital and the eastern castle, and Fredereck had procured a map to plot out their route to the Feroxi capital. Still not an expert on the continents geography, Mark chose to take a seat at the cliffs edge, pulling his pipe and tobacco pack from the folds of his robes. Packing the pipe, the tactician struck a match to light it when a hard breeze blew the fire out. Cursing, Mark threw the match down the side of the cliff. He searched his satchel and robes but couldn't find any more matches.

"Excuse me, lieutenant." Confused and a little startled, Mark turned to find a woman standing behind him, encased in ivory with flowing red hair. There was a Pegasus standing beside her, wings folded at its side. "I believe I can help you with your missing inventory." Mark started to stand up, and when finally upright, the woman was holding out a pack of matches for him.

"Uhh…thank you." Taking the pack, he quickly struck the match and finally lit his pipe. "But I'm not a lieutenant, you see. Just the tactician." He breathed in and smoke filled his mouth, which was let out in a single stream over the cliff. "I…don't believe we've actually been introduced yet." The woman in front of him straightened, and bowed to him, keeping her head level and her eyes on the tactician.

"I apologize. I'm Cordelia, member of…well," Cordelia drew circles on the ground with her foot for a moment and took a breath, "I was a member, of the 21st division of the Yllissian Pegasus Knights." The pegasus that stood next to Cordelia chopped at the ground to get her attention, before bowing it's head towards Mark. "Oh! Of course. This is my Pegasus, Catria."

"Charmed, Cordelia." Mark was waiting for Cordelia to rise before continuing. "My name is…"

"Mark, family name unknown. Found by Prince Chrom in the middle of a dirt road 3 weeks ago while on a patrol. Proficient with blades and tomes, however mastery of either has yet to be attained." Mark was taken aback, jaw left open and pipe smoldering in hand. He didn't even know this woman before today, yet she seemed to have a full profile on him.

"Yes. Well, I happily welcome you into our ranks, if you would like to. So far, Sumia is the only aerial assault we have, and having you would give me so many more options." He gave a small bow back to Cordelia, hoping she would say yes. He had learned in the past three days the power of flying soldiers, and wanted to use it for himself. He felt palms on his shoulders, as Cordelia pushed him upright again.

"No need for pleasantries, sir. I'm only a soldier, still truly green, not deserving of any true recognition." She grabbed the reigns of her mount and made her way over to where Chrom and the others were seemingly ready to move out. "I look forward to working with you on the field in the future, sir." Left on the edge of the cliff, Mark was impressed and excited to have someone so professional added to the Sheppard ranks. Snuffing the fire in his pipe, he put his bad habit away and began after the knight.


	2. Love

[Our scene opens in The Purple Dragon, the hotspot tavern in Ylisstol. In there, two figures sat in the middle of the sea of humanity. They shared a table and were laughing, so many hours and just a few bottles into their night. These people? Cordelia the knight and her strategist, Mark.]

Mark: And that's when I said "Ripper? Why Captain, I hardly knew her!"

[Both proceed to laugh, Mark wiping a tear from his eye.]

Cordelia: And they honestly thought you were some serial killer?

Mark: [He snickers] Nah, I just really like using that ripper line.

Cordelia: Oh, I can't believe you! You're the worst!

Mark: [He takes a drink from a bottle in front of him] Like you haven't lied to someone's face before.

Cordelia: Me? Never. I have nothing to lie about.

Mark: Oh, come on, Cordelia. No need to put up a façade.

Cordelia: I have no clue what you're on about… [She picks up her glass, draining what was left inside] I think I need another drink. Excuse me. [She leaves the table and walks towards the bar.]

Mark: I can't believe she thinks she still needs to lie about her feelings for Chrom. No need to hide what the whole damn camp sees.

Cordelia: [returning, with a full glass in hand] Now, I think it was your turn to ask a question. Though it may be hard to top 'have you ever gotten in trouble with the guards?'

Mark: Alright. [He takes a drink from his bottle] Who was your first love?

Cordelia: I'm sorry?

Mark: You heard me. You're first love. The man who first set your heart aflutter.

Cordelia: Oh…well…I don't know if I should.

Mark: We both agreed to the rules of the game when we sat down. Can't dodge a question.

Cordelia: …Alright. His name's Julian. I met him when I was 14 when we were in school. He's a boy from back home in Jannet.

Mark: Well, go on. What's he like?

Cordelia: Hah…well, he was a farmer's son, but he was smart. Smarter than me, stronger, better with a sword. I hated him. And yet…

Mark: You couldn't help it, her skill and charm was too much…

Cordelia: Yeah…wait, she?

Mark: What?

Cordelia: I…guess nothing. But yeah, my attraction to Julian kept pushing me to be better, hoping one day he'd see me as an equal or…I guess as a lover. I think you could count that as my first love.

Mark: [He finishes what's in his bottle] So whatever happened to Jules?

Cordelia: _Julian_ and I had two different paths in life. I signed up for the Pegasus knights and Julian wanted to pursue a career in art. Last I heard he was somewhere in Valm, trying to find himself, or a payroll, or some bullshit.

Mark: Wow!

Cordelia: What?

Mark: I've just never heard you curse before. It's a jolt.

Cordelia: Sorry…I just feel like I wasted a good portion of my life over him…over love…

Mark: Cordelia…what do you think love is?

Cordelia: Huh...I mean it's an attraction you feel to someone…usually unexplainable otherwise.

Mark: Hmm. Our definitions of love differ then.

Cordelia: What do you think it is then?

Mark: When you care more for someone…than yourself.

Cordelia: So by that logic, you accept Tharja's love?

Mark: Gah! God's no! That woman…there's something not right with that woman.

Cordelia: Oh, but it must be love, since I'm sure she cares more about you than herself.

Mark: Look I…sigh, not that I don't appreciate it. It's just that she's always…plotting, you know.

Cordelia: [She giggles] Well, I guess there's two ways of looking at love. [She looks around.] It looks like the bar is starting to get pretty empty. We should be heading out.

Mark: Right…well [raises bottle] Here's to Julian

Cordelia: [Hits Mark's bottle with her glass] And to Tharja.

[The two sat there for another few minutes, quietly finishing their drinks, contemplating the meaning of love. Was Cordelia's admiration love? Was Tharja's twisted sense of caring love? Who are we to say? Certainly we're not to say tonight, as The Purple Dragon closes it's doors.


	3. Light

Cordelia opened the door to Mark's room in the palace, a bugle being held in the crook of her arm. The tactician was lying in bed, snoring into his pillow. "He's so precious when he's asleep." The knight sighed to herself, before putting her lips to the mouthpiece of the horn. Breathing deep, she let out a loud wail from the bugle that caused Mark to all but jump from his bed. Clutching to the quilt to his chest, Mark stared wide eyed up towards Cordelia, who was walking towards the closed curtains in the room.

"Gods, woman! What was that for?! I was sleeping just fi-AHH!" The man's words were cut short by the light of the sun, breaking through the window Cordelia was exposing by parting the curtains. "Wh-what time is it?" He blurted out, using his hand to shield his eyes.

"It's past first light, and that's what's important." Cordelia walked back around him to stand in the doorway. "Come on, you're wasting the day away." Without another word, she turned on her heel and went out the door leaving Mark on the floor, still clutching the bed's covers. Happy with her success, she walked back down the stairs to the makeshift diming hall, where a few people were working on their breakfast plates. Since Gangral's defeat, everyone had been working hard to rebuild Yllisse. Most of the Sheppards were residing in the Ylisstol castle for now, while they were working to restore it and the surrounding city after Gangral's attack had left it prime for bandits and thieves. True, no one had to be up at certain times, but the Pegasus knight thought that Mark was becoming complacent with no direct threat. He was the second-in-command of the army by default, and had to be an example for the rest of the army. That didn't include sleeping in till after the sun was fully risen.

A few minutes later Mark entered the hall himself, grunting good mornings at people as he past, before finding Cordelia with his eyes. With a slight expression of contempt on his face and the desire for sleep still in his eyes, he walked over and sat across from her. "You know, some sailors say it's bad luck to wake a sleeping man."

"I've noticed recently that you tend to wake up later than even Virion, and that's impressive." Cordelia noticed the servants she had called on before she woke Mark up, and got their attention. They came with full trays, one with a teapot and two ups, the other with plates stacked high with food. "We need to get you waking up earlier, and I'm gonna help." The food was put in front of both of them, and the tea poured. Cordelia put two cubes of sugar in her cup and stirred. "It's for the best."

"The best?" Mark sat there still trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. The servants put his plate in front of him and poured him his tea, then backed away with a bow. "Look, Cordelia, I know you have the best intentions. But I don't think that one man can-"

"Well you're not just one man. You're one of the most important men in the country, even the whole continent." Cordelia lectured him, in between spoons of oatmeal. "You have a certain responsibility now." Mark signed, taking a sip of tea. Eventually, he nodded.

"Alright. I'll do what you say. But this morning is gonna come back to you one day, Cordelia. You understand that?" The knight smiled, and reclined in her chair.

"I'm sure I am. Now," she pulled out a notebook from her satchel and flipped the pages to about halfway through the book "you better finish your food quickly. You have to be in the barracks in 20 minutes to train and give motivation to the troops there."

"W-wait, what? Do you have my day planned?" Mark snatched the book from the woman across from him's hands and stared down the page. "You do…barracks, the healer's house, and a run?...all before lunch?" He flipped the page and his eyes widened farther. "You have tomorrow planned too! And the day after! And all of next week…" His head hit the table, shaking the teacup and his empty plate. "What did I just agree to?"


	4. Dark

A scream echoed through the halls of the castle, caught even by Mark reading in the library. What was it? Thieves, Grimleal or some other assassin? Snapping his book shut, he rose and hurried his way down the hall to where he thought the screaming had come from. As he made his way hurriedly down the hallway, he heard a faint noise coming from a room a few meters ahead of him. Getting closer to the door, he could make out the sound of sobbing and labored breathing from behind the door. With his ear pressed to the door, Mark saw other figures coming from the opposite end of the hallway with weapons drawn. Signaling quietly for the approaching guards to ready themselves for the worst, the tactician opened the door ready for the worst.

What he found was not thief or murderer, but only a single woman sitting upright in her bed. Cordelia was clutching the covers of her bed around her and was gasping for short breaths between tears, a wide expression in her eyes and on her face. Mark breathed a sigh of relief, and motioned for the guards to stand down and return to their posts, before he made his way into Cordelia's room towards her bed. The full upon outside broke through the darkness and shone light upon the woman in bed. "Was it the same nightmare?"

"I…I…yes." The knight managed to blurt out before burying her face in Mark's robes, clutching at his sleeves. Ever since losing her division sisters to the Plegian invasion of the capital 3 months ago, Cordelia had been plagued with nightmares of them. Their voices, their faces, and their blood haunted her most nights. Mark put his arms around the crying woman, and eventually helped her stand up. Following their usual routine, the pair went back to the library that Mark had been researching in before. A fresh pot was put on the fire, and two cups of tea were put out on the table where books weren't laying. Cordelia sat in a large, comfy chair across from Mark, with the blanket from her room still wrapped around her shoulders, and grabbed her cup, breathing in the aroma of the drink. "Thanks, Mark. I'm sorry that I've been troubling you all this time"

"You haven't been trouble." Mark sighed as he took a sip from his cup. "You help me in the mornings, I feel an obligation to help you in the night I guess. Besides, I don't necessarily like seeing friends suffer." Cordelia smiled as she took a drink herself. Mark returned a quill to his left hand, flipping through the textbook on his right and occasionally scratching in a notebook.

"What're you working on?" Cordelia prodded as she stretched her neck out to try and read the tactician's writing.

"I'm doing research on…well on darker magics than the ones I use now." He admitted, passing a different book over to the knight. In candlelight, Cordelia could make out the title Putting Money on the Dark Horse: A Crash Course in the Dark Arts. By Henry Silmonde. "That author seems to be well versed in this kind of magic, even if the language he uses in the book is…harder to digest than others. Seems to be fond of making jokes at the expense of the dead." Wandering over to the window, Mark pulled out his pipe, filled and lit the bowl, and opened the window as he exhaled his first sigh of smoke. "Many of the writings I've found from Sorcerers and Necromancers of lore claim that they found an art that allows them to almost never fear someone else of magical prowess. That is something I would be interested in; to be able to combat powerful magics with ease."

"But isn't diving into the darkness, you know, dangerous?" Cordelia spoke as she rose, mug in hand. She walked over to her friend and looked out the window with him, the moon reflecting on the river that wound around the castle wall and continued its flow west. "I mean…look at Tharja, and the Grimleal. All use it, and none of them are really…sane."

"I don't know. I have a feeling," Mark let out another breath of smoke, "that the two aren't directly connected, but are both potentially spurred from some other…presence."

"Grima?" Cordelia questioned, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. Just the name brought a shudder to her, the weight of the pain and terror that came with it chilling her.

"I don't know…but I find it hard to believe that the magic itself could be evil or malignant to the user." Mark knocked the ash and tobacco out of his pipe on the outer wall, and turned to pack up. "Now, I think, it's time we both try and sleep. Shall we?"

The two went to their rooms. Cordelia returned to sleeping quickly, thankfully no more nightmares plagued her this night. But Mark stayed awake longer, staring at the ceiling and thinking of his studies from the night. Regardless of the apparent dangers, he didn't want those impeding or troubling his research. Like Cordelia had said, he needed to be a strong figure and model for others to follow. Being stronger, being useful to Chrom and the army, was all that he cared about.


	5. Seeking Solace

By Cordelia's estimation, Mark would bleed out in 4 minutes if she didn't help him now. He was laying now across her lap, and she was trying to make sure he wouldn't fall off of Catria. Flying away from the fight she had to dodge the archers attempting to shoot her down, trying to keep the tactician balanced, and made for a forest that was sitting a good way from the fighting.

The Risen did not disappear when Gangral fell, seeming to even increase in numbers since Plegia's defeat. Mark had organized everyone into "cleaning parties" to take care of the groups of fell creatures that were roaming the land. When Cordelia, Mark, Gregor and Virion had made their way across the bridge on the Northroad from the capital, Mark had been ambushed by a detachment of archers. One arrow had caught him in the stomach, and one had grazed his neck, opening a stream of red that was growing with each second. Thinking as fast as she could, the redhead swept Mark up and used a cloth from her satchel to try and ebb the flow coming from his neck.

Easily, the Pegasus landed in the midst of the small forest and allowed Cordelia and her passenger to dismount. The pair made their way to a tree, were Mark fell with his back onto a tree and slid down it. Now sitting with the cloth against his neck, his free hand now grabbed at the arrow that stuck out of him, and attempted to pull with no progress. Giving up, Mark let his arm fall, his pale face turning down as his head drooped.

Cordelia searched through her pack for a vulnerary or tincture and found none. Cursing, she tried to lift the tactician's head and keep him conscious. But all the bottles she had were empty. Mark groaned in pain while Cordelia groaned in frustration. She was going to lose Mark and it was because she forgot to restock this one time. What would Captain Phila have thought if-

Wait. Phila. Cordelia sprung to her feet and ran back to her Pegasus. She remembered, whenever Phila oversaw her unit's training, that whenever someone was injured that the captain would offer to heal them on the spot. Experienced knights could wield staves, she had explained. Ever since, Cordelia had packed a basic staff on Caria's saddle with the hope of one day learning how to use it.

She untied a few knots and the shaft of wood fell from its place, hitting the ground with a _thunk_. Quickly picking it up, she ran back to where Mark sat, now nearly motionless. His hand that held the bloody cloth was now dropped at his side, some blood still trickling now from his neck. Cordelia knelt beside, staff in hand. She pled with Naga for a brief moment to help her, before holding the staff in both hands and bowing her head. Oh Gods, she didn't know what she was doing. What do you do with a staff? Do you say something? Do you chant? The knight just sat there, only moving to place her hand on the man in front of her's shoulder. Tear's started to form in her eyes at the thought of not being able to save her friend.

It felt like they were there for minutes, motionless, before Cordelia heard a heavy cough come from in front of her. She lifted her head in time to lock eyes with Mark, slightly more color in his face than just a few moments ago. The wound on his neck was gone, the dried blood the only evidence of anything having been there before. A smile crossed the Yllissian woman's face, as her fear turned into joyous tears. She had done it, just like Phila had.

"Th-…thanks, Cordelia. Now…can you get this arrow out of me?"


	6. Break Away

"Can I take the blindfold off now?" Mark was walking forward, following hesitantly where the knight led him. She giggled at his confusion, but kept leading him forward.

"It's just a little further, I promise." The two walked through the tall grass just outside the city's stables to where the surprise she had prepared for Mark waited. "Okay, stand right…here." She stopped the tactician in just the right spot, and took his blindfold off. "Ta-daa!" she beamed, and Mark recoiled backward from the sight in front of him.

An emerald wyvern was standing in front of him. Its tail moving from one side to the other, wings beating rhythmically low to its body. The scaled face looking straight into Mark's. "Cordelia, is your idea of a surprise that I'm going to be eaten by a wyvern?" The beast in front of him snorted, and bared sharp teeth with a large yawn.

"NO, you have to ride it." Cordelia walked towards the wyvern and stroked the animal's head. "You had told me you'd never flown, at least flown without assistance from me, or Sumia, Cherche, what have you." The wyvern turned to expose a saddle it was wearing on his back. "Well you're going to today. And Zeiss here is going to be your first mount." Cordelia was smiling wide and looking toward Mark expectantly. She was met with a nervous laugh and a few half formed excuses. But the stare turned stern, and Mark knew he wasn't getting out of this experience.

Gingerly, Mark mounted Zeiss, who seemed very compliant. Cordelia assured him, as she mounted Catria, that his owner claimed that the wyvern was the best-behaved of his species that the man had. Not a moment after Mark was securely fastened in the saddle, legs affixed in braces on the sides and now gloved hands gripped to the reigns, and the wyvern spread his wings and let out a shriek. This was quickly becoming a worse and worse idea by the second. And then the two mounts began to lift their riders into the air, with Catria getting a running start, but Zeiss merely pushing off with his powerful wings.

At first, Mark had his eyes shut, praying to Naga that they wouldn't fall off or get buffeted from his position by a strong gust. But, after having not died for long enough, he was able to open his eyes and look around. All around him was the light blues and oranges of sunrise. The wind wasn't as strong up here as he thought, and he looked down and saw the land under him, maybe a hundred feet down. Queasy at first, the man managed to hold his stomach down and looked forward again. There he saw Cordelia soaring, her Pegasus weaving through the air. Gripping Zeiss' reigns, Mark pulled on them to tell the wyvern to speed up. The beast complied, and soon he was flying past the Yllissian knight, smiling as he passed. With a laugh, Mark and his mount continued through the sky.

After about an hour of flying around, seeing villages below and forests that stretched farther than eye sight, Cordelia led Yllisse's strategist towards the mountain range east of the capital. Mark dismounted, legs wobbling at being used again. He waked towards Zeiss' head and patted it. The wyvern hissed in what Mark hoped was happiness, and laid down. Cordelia soon joined him, landing a few feet from Zeiss. "Well Cordelia, I have to tell you that…well that was kind of amazing." Mark laughed out as he approached the redhead. "I was wrong to be nervous I guess."

"I told you it'd be fine." She crowed, stroking her mount's mane. "I think everyone deserves a chance to ride in the skies the way we knights or Cherche do." She walked to the mountain's edge and sat there, looking towards the city. Mark followed her over and sat next to her. "I like coming up here in the mornings. It gives me room to think about the day, you know?"

"It's beautiful up here. Nice place to meditate." The man remarked. The pair sat there for an hour still, talking some but mostly just looking out towards the country they serve. Without doing it verbally, the pair got up and returned to their mounts, with Mark thanking Cordelia again for helping him break out of his standard routine before they saddled up and rode out back into the now midday air.


	7. Heavan

How Libra had convinced them to all attend the church of Naga on this particular day was unknown. But all of the Shepards who were in the city for rebuilding were there, in decent clothes, quietly sitting as the father talk give his sermon. Most of the men and women in the pew of warriors were half asleep, but Mark was wide awake, entranced by the cathedral they were sitting in alone. The walls were polished marble, with scenes carved into the alabaster stone from what Mark assumed were epics from the Book of Naga. The priest went on through his teachings for the day, regaling the works of Naga in the countries of the west, and drawing a lesson of staying one's hand for cowed creatures. Once his lesson was done they all rose and either sang or hummed along with a closing hymnal before the crowds in the holy place were allowed to leave. As the Shepards began to leave, Mark saw one of his friends break off from the rest and go down a separate corridor.

Mark followed the crimson hair down the hall, and eventually the twists lead to a small alter with several candles on or surrounding, some lit but many not having a flame. There he found Cordelia, lighting some of the candles with a small flame on the end of a rod. After putting the fire out, she stood there for a while longer, before turning to see the tactician and getting startled. "M-Mark! What're you doing here?" He could see the watery look in her eyes.

"I just saw you leave and wondered where you went." He looked past her and studied the alter more. "Are those for your…?"

"It's for my sky sisters yes…and Phila and her lieutenants." She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked forward. "It's sort of a way we pray for the dead. The candles are like lights that let those in the afterlife know we miss them." The two walked out of the cathedral. It was a bright morning and the two walked down the steps that led to the street.

"What…what does Naga say about the afterlife, anyway?" Mark inquired as they walked back towards the castle. His companion sighed and looked towards the sky as they walked.

"It's…that's a complicated question. Because they teach that each person's time after death is different." She looked back down the street after another few moments and smiled to herself. "They say it all depends on what you did during your life. Your just and evil deeds are placed on a scae that lifts your spirit up. Wherever weight lifts you, they teach that a door awaits to take you to the land you'll spend the rest of your days. In the doors are other people that have gone through it, and the rewards or punishments earned during y our mortal time."

"Well, you seemed to be able to describe it well enough." Mark smiled, approaching the palace and walking through the gate. "I…I guess I never think about the afterlife too much. Goddess knows I send enough people there with my actions." At this Cordelia gave a weak smile and nodded.

"I guess at the end, we all get what we deserve. " She said as they enter the barracks doors, soldiers around them gearing up for training. "But that's not for me to think about. Not here or now." She walked over to her locker and started gearing up. Mark nodded at Cordelia's back and turned to his own gear cache. Death and after shouldn't be thought of now by him, either. He needed his thoughts focused on the here and now as he turned around to find an opponent, so he wouldn't be sitting on a scale before his real time.


	8. Innocence

_Every so often, incidents happen between Shepards. Incidents that the Shepards themselves would rather take care of. Sometimes there's a brawl and someone needs to be held accountable for damages. Sometimes drunk Shepards who had too much fun the night before need to be found out and made to pay. We look in on a scene for one such exchange, the honorable judge Fredereck presiding over a case between the strategist Mark, and Gregor the swell sellsword. In this instance, Mark leaves the delegation to his "lawyer" Cordelia. Cases like this are never to be missed by the other Shepards, as a crowd has formed around the figures standing over three tables that formed a loose triabgle._

Fredereck: Mark, you're being accused of stealing from Gregor's supplies, a crime which is punishable in this camp by fines triple of the gold and goods stolen. How do you plead?

Mark: What?! Oh that is redi-…

Cordelia: Not Guilty. [She elbows Mark in the side and glares him down.]

Fredereck: We will first hear the prosecutions sideo f the story. Gregor, if you will.

Gregor: Thank you, judge man. Gregor is coming back from field of battle with much gold and other loots in hand. He is thinking this is good fortune and brag worthy. So Gregor puts most of acquired loot down in tent and goes of to make the impressing of the Shepards. Well, when I am returning to tent, all of gold and shiny sword from fight is making the disappear. Later, he sees Mark with hands on sword! Gregor wants money and treasure back from tactician.

Fredereck: Okay. Cordelia does your…uh, client have any defense.

Cordelia: No, but I have questions for Gregor.

Fredereck: You may approach the plaintiff, then.

Mark: [whispering] Whatever you have up your sleeve I hope it's good. I don't even HAVE any money to be able to pay this ridiculous…

Cordelia: Yeah, I know. You've told me already. Just trust me. [she approaches Gregor] Gregor, when did you join the Shepards.

Gregor: Gregor is joining 4 months ago. You know this, because Cordelia was there the day I join!

Codelia: Yes I know. I bring this up because, on that day, you became an official employee of Prince Chrom correct?

Gregor: Yes, I am becoming the sold sword to little lord Chrom, hah hah hah!

Cordelia: I see. Your honor Fredereck, I present to you the contract that was signed on that day. [she produces a scroll from her side and hands it to Fredereck.] I would ask you to read Article 2, section 4 for the clarity of this court.

Fredereck: 'In the event of any military excursions participated in by party B, the arty is allowed to keep any wealth or valuable obtained from the enemy only, as dropped. However, if party B is participating in a campaign with other Shepards, party B loses claim to the valuables, and the wealth and other treasures officially belong to party A'

Cordelia: Gregor, were you alone in this battle that got you such wealth reported missing?

Gregor: Er…ahh…no, I am fighting with Ricken and Virion together in clearing out Risen.

Cordelia: I thought so. Your honor, my client did take the gold and sword that were retrieved from this particular battle. However, he was in every right to do so, as it belongs to Chrom, as detailed in the agreement in your hands.

Fredereck: I see. The defense's arguent is solid. Solid enough in fact for me to dismiss this case. Gregor, please make sure that next time, you do read your contracts.

Mark: [He glares over at Gregor, who returns a sheepish look of apology.] Cordelia, I can't thank you enough for this.

Cordelia: Don't mention it. But you owe me. The usual; next round at the Purple Dragon is on you.


	9. Drive

A moment of peace was always something to be grateful for. The visits from roaming tacticians were getting wearing. Assumedly a ploy by some hostile force to try and break the Shepards, groups of other 'Shepards' had been challenging them on almost a daily basis. Today was no different, as a group had approached with no attempt to disguise their intent. Honestly, he was tired of constantly fighting shades of his own companions, today having to personally slay men resembling Chrom and Ricken before personally challenging their tactician. The easy peace that came from Gangral's defeat was not turning out to be easy after all.

"I don't know where they're coming from, or why they come Cordelia." The tactician spoke, clutching a mug in his hands. The Shepards had stopped in a local inn for the night, and many were congregated in the main hall and weren't planning to leave till late into the night. "These groups keep coming out to challenge us…challenge me. I don't know how much longer I can keep this win streak up." He took a drink of the ale in his mug and sat back in his chair, the knight next to him bringing a long stemmed glass to her lips.

"Well, when did they start? Two months ago?" Two months ago would be when the army had ridden out of Plegia for the first time, after Emmeryn's death. Although, the challenges had started a week before that; the first group to challenge Mark's strategy and his friend's mettle came as they had departed from Yssitol to save the Exalt. Easy at the time, however the challenges began to come in more often, and came with better weapons and more tactical moves. The stress was getting to Mark, causing him restless nights and long bouts of desired solitude.

"I don't know why they're coming after me. I mean what makes our group special?" Finally one day, Gaius returned to Mark with information. Gaius learned that all the groups were coming from the Outrealm gates, but they couldn't be traced any farther back. Whenever a new group exited the gate, they seemed to have no other intent than to find the Shepards and attempt to eliminate them. "Can't we just…I don't know, buy them off?"

"Mark, what drives you again?" Cordelia put her glass down hard, shaking the table with the force. Unnerved by the action, Mark snapped from his melancholy to look at the woman across from him.

"I…uhh…wh-what're you getting at?"

"You always say that your goal is to be the greatest strategic mind you can be." Cordelia leaned forward, getting into Mark's face. "Well, life is giving you the greatest test for that. People are crossing dimensions…for some reason…and they're choosing to fight you. And you're complaining about this like some primped noble whose tired form a day of sunbathing and paper signing."

She was right and he knew it. Mark smiled and took another drink. Thinking back, he realized the most exciting parts of his life these days were the daily challenges. "You're right Cordelia. This is my drive, and so far my steel has been proven strong." She smiled at this, the twinkle in her eyes matching the joy on her lips. "What about your drive, then?" He said with a smirk. Cordelia's cheeks turned slightly red, and she covered her still present smile that was turning into a grin. Two tables down, Chrom was busy laughing with Vaike over empty bottles, bickering over who could win in a strait fight. "Have you worked on that at all, since we talked about it?"

"Well…No." The knight sputtered out before she took another drink. "No I haven't talked to Chrom about…well anything." The tactician sighed. He had gotten her to finally admit her love of their leader to him, and ever since he had tried to help her conquer her emotions and desires.

"Why not start now then?" He said with a smile as he stood, turning and beginning to walk over to Chrom's table.

"NO!" One minute, Mark had been walking towards Chrom and Vaike. The next, Cordelia had grabbed him by his cloak's hood and was dragged backwards. Tripping on the stool he had sat in, the man fell onto the table, which bowed and broke under his weight. The noise made many of the people in the tavern turn around, some of the Shepards standing and drawing weapons. Cordelia sheepishly looked around, Mark laid out in front of her, hood still in her hand. "He…uhh…I think Mark's had enough for the night."


	10. Breathe Again

"Catria brought you back here." Mark explained to the barely alive, but now conscious Cordelia. "You weren't breathing until Maribelle got a chance to work you over with her staff." The knight gingerly rose in the cot, legs dangling off the makeshift bed. Her armor was removed, with cloth wrapped around her chest and neck, clothes stained with blood. "Don't worry, I wasn't the one who stripped your armor off or dress your wounds." Cordelia tried to speak, but she began coughing violently as she tried to make a sound. This brought her back to rest across the cot.

During the fight to get off the Carrion Isle, a Risen mage had gotten a perfect shot at Cordelia. In an instant the redhead was enveloped in a slicing wind, which slashed at her throat and pierced her armor, digging towards her lungs. Her breathing still came labored, but it was better than not being able to draw breath at all. "You need to be more careful. A little deeper and the wind could've killed you." Mark rose and walked toward a nearby end table and poured the contents of a yellow bottle into a nearby glass.

"Here." He walked towards Cordelia and helped prop her up in the cot. Gingerly, he raised the glass to her lips and let her drink. The vulnerary helped the pain that was still present in her throat and chest, and the breathing came easier to her. She laid back again, sighing from the warmth now in her sternum.

"Thank you." She managed to whisper with a weak smile.

"Come on, it's me. Am I going to let the lynch pin to so many of my plans die because some pile of mangled flesh got a good shot on her? It'd be like losing a favorite flask." She still had enough strength to lightly hit the tactician in the shoulder, and he grinned at her. If she was strong enough to take a swing at him, she'd be alight. He rose, gave her one last smile, and walked out of the medical tent.

Mark strode down the street of the makeshift tent town the Shepards now formed. This was a beacon of good news that shone in a swarm of ill fortune. He reached the end of the tent town and pulled his pipe from the folds of his robes. As he packed his pipe, he began pondering over the incident with Valider earlier yesterday, and the fight after. Lighting the pipe with but a flick of his wrist, producing the flame from his index finger. Drawing in the smoke, he thought over Validar's claims, not knowing how much stock to put into them. His mind though, wandered more than once to his friend sitting in the medical tent now and then.

Meanwhile, Cordelia lay awake in her cot, gently feeling her throat and wincing from the pain it emanated. She had made a mistake of not analyzing the entire battlefield and had paid for it. The price was to sit here in this tent and stew in her failure. Feeling strength come back to her arm, she reached out to where the vulnerary in a glass sat next to her on the ground and managed to grab it. Raising it with great effort, she managed to take more of the medicine down as she slowly slid up from her rest. Feeling slightly less pain once again, she would soon drift off to a dreamless sleep, but the last conscious thoughts she would have lingered on Mark's kindness.


	11. Memories

The Risen patrols were reduced in number greatly now that the Shepards could take some of the bands single handedly. Ragna Ferox and Yllisse seemed to be in little threat from the Risen, while Plegia's problems were greater and needed more men to handle the wandering bands there. But, on the road between Ylisstol and the eastern palace, Mark and Cordelia were making sport of a small group that was dwindling smaller. Chrom would scold them for making sport out of such a threat, but the pair couldn't help but try and find fun in this boring routine.

"This is where we first met, remember?" Mark quipped as he sent a bolt through the frame of an archer, bringing the figure down with a simple page turn. They stood on a nearby mountain top, taking shots at the enemy below, drawing out the fight into a target practice. Cordelia drew her arm back before she released the javelin she was holding. It planted itself fifty feet away in the chest of a rider, knocking him from his mount. "I was sitting on the edge of the cliff over there, and-"

"And I came over from the debriefing by Chrom, with a box of matches." She finished, pulling another javelin from the compartment on Catria's saddle. "Fighter on the left, in the chest." She loosed the next javelin, and it landed exactly where she had commanded it to land. Mark was always impressed by her accuracy whenever they fought. Trying not to be shown up, he let another pair of bolts loose from his hands and sail towards targets.

"If I'm being overly sentimental, I'm sorry. But it's one of my favorite memories." Cordelia's next javelin was slightly off target, striking a sternum when the desired target was a head. She looked at him, head cocked slightly. "Well, you have to understand I don't have many memories." Mark backpeddled, standing up and drawing his blade "I think we can afford to wade into them now. Unless you wanna keep safe back here." He said with a smirk towards her, trying to play cool and back off the subject.

Cordelia mounted her Pegasus and pulled a lance from the saddle. "Hop on." Mark quickly mounted Catria, much easier now than his original attempts to ride with Cordelia. The two swept off towards the remaining Risen, and easily struck them down. The ivory armored maiden running them through as she flew, and Mark taking off the occasional head as they flew by. Soon, the threat was neutralized, and the pair began to return to the capital. "So what's it like then? Having so few memories?" Cordelia questioned as they walked down the road, Catria flying freely in the skies above.

"Well…I guess I don't know. I don't know what it's like to have a lot of memories." Mark scratched the back of his head as he tried putting words to how he felt. "I think the memories I've made are…sharper? I guess, than most people. More vivid." Mark took his cloak off and held it in the crook of his arm, the sun still beating down on them. "I sometimes wonder what I was like before Chrom found me. Like was I a good person? A bandit? I don't know."

"Well, Fredereck and Chrom trust you, and I guess if you were wanted, Fredereck would know you at least. So I think you're in the clear. Besides," Cordelia turned her head to look the tactician in the eyes, "if you were any kind of bad, I feel like you've used your second chance to make up for it." She smiled at him, and Mark felt more at ease as they walked. What he had spurted out to his comrade were thoughts that always came up in his mind, but what she said made sense. Whatever his past was, his present and future were now dedicated to Yllisse, serving Chrom, and his friends.

* * *

Hey everyone! I've been gone for a while, with finals weeks swamping me physically and mentally. But hopefully I'm going to be able to post one theme a day here for a good while. SO, if you like what I'm doing, give the story a liking and a following, and leave a review letting me know how I'm doing. Also, if you have a request for a theme, let me know in a review. There are alot of themes on my list I'm not to keen on doing, and would LOVE to switch them out. Thankkkkksssss


	12. Insanity

She opened her eyes, and only saw darkness. Cordelia attempted to move her arms, but she felt a rope binding her wrists together. She struggled against ropes that held her where she sat, before sitting back into the chair. Her head spun and ached, but in the mist was a voice that broke out towards her. "Are we comfortable, my flower?" The voice came from her left, and she turned to look towards it. "You wouldn't believe how many nights I sat in the Purple Dragon, waiting for you to not look at your wine long enough to slip my special brew into it. But now you're here with me, and it's all been worth it."

"Who…are you!" She shouted as she struggled against her bonds once again. The ropes remained taught and seemed to get tighter as she pushed against them. "Release me now, and I promise not to beat you myself before handing you over to the guards!" A laugh that came out like a hiss came from behind her, and it circled around as the man continued.

"That's not important now my dear. You're here with me, and now that I have you, I don't want to let you go. And I don't think I will." A hand wove itself through her hair, and she shuddered as it was lifted and pressed to someone's face. "You smell just like I thought you would." The voice crawled its way through the Pegasus knight's ear, and it shook her even more. "I have everything prepared for our evening. But I think, my dear, that you need to slip into something more comfortable." The sound of metal being unsheathed came from behind her, and Cordelia felt her captor grab a handful of the top she was wearing. Like a saw, the drawn blade was cutting through her clothes, taking chunks from the top and exposing more of her skin. She struggled again, but all her struggling got her was cool metal pressed against her throat. "Now now. No use to struggle, my dear."

Footsteps came around her and she felt someone breathing near her face, breath smelling rotted and wet. "Yllisse's Savior of the Skies. So proud, and so helpless." She could feel her captor's face approaching hers slowly. She could feel his lips pressed against hers, and she bit down and wrenched her head back. He screamed, and recoiled as Cordelia spit a metallic taste from her mouth. A hand came across her face, but the pain was worth the satisfaction of making the bastard bleed. "That was a mistake, girl. That was your last mistake."

At that moment, Cordelia heard a pounding come from beyond the voice that was promising to end her life. After a few loud thuds, there was a crash and the sounds of a fight. Cordelia heard metal clashing, and a familiar voice yelling insults and threats. Before long the fighting stopped, and Cordelia waited anxiously before she once again felt hands on her head. Instinctively, she threw her head forward, connecting with another skull in front of her. "Ow!" The voice was not that of her captive, but that of her friend and tactician.

"Mark?" She called out, out of joy and concern. The hands moved for the blindfold that covered her eyes and removed it to reveal Mark indeed. He had a cut on his cheek, and a red spot on his forehead, where she assumed her head had connected. She looked down and saw the roped holding her against a wooden chair, with shreds of her top draping over the ropes. Around them was a single room, with a table with food on it in one corner, with a small bed in the other corner, comforter pulled open with a single rose sitting on the pillow. Over Mark's shoulder, she saw a man on the ground, groaning and shifting just barely. Greasy red hair slicked back, silver knife laying at his side. "What…who the hell…"

"I guess I'm lucky I found you when I did." Mark said as he attempted to untie the ropes. "When you didn't return to the castle earlier tonight, I had to go looking for you. A few roughed up thugs later…well I'm glad I found you alive." With a little more effort, the ropes were undone and Cordelia could move. As she stood, Mark cut the rope that bound her wrists. Cordelia walked over and punted the man on the ground hard in the stomach, causing him to cough up blood.

"Good. Maniac." She turned to Mark, who was still looking at her with worry. Cordelia's stone composure gave way, as she threw herself into the tactician's arms, holding back tears. "He's insane. He almost killed me. If you hadn't come when you did I…" The pair sat in the dingy room for a few minutes, before Cordelia composed herself enough to walk. While she wanted him dead, they both knew he had to be brought to the guards. Together, they hoisted him in between their shoulders and walked in the breaking daylight, towards the barracks in the north of the city.


	13. Misfortune

The Purple Dragon was just opening its doors and there was already someone sitting at the bar. In fact, the man had been sitting there since the night before. The owner, Hunter, knew better than to try and get him to go home, so the man had stayed the night. With a groan, Mark lifted his head from the crook of his arms, looking around in a haze wondering where he was. Looking around him, he recognized the mahogany walls and the line of bottes on the wall across from him. Remembering the night before, he reached a hand out and grabbed at a half full bottle that sat near him. Before it reached the ale, an ivory clad hand grabbed the tactician's wrist. "When you weren't at training I assumed I'd find you here." Cordelia sighed, pulling the alcohol from the bar and placing it on a near table. "Hunter told me you've been here since dusk last night. Wanna say what happened?"

"I was drunk by about sundown. I bet Virion that he couldn't make 3 bullseyes in a row." Mark lifted his head to stare into his friend's eyes. "The bastards a fine shot after a bottle of wine." He tried to stand but he stumbled out of the chair, Cordelia had to act quickly to catch him in her arms. She smelled the spirits on his breath, and the weakness in his legs only helped in her assumptions.

"How much did you lose, Mark?" Cordelia implored, slinging her inebriated friend's arms over her shoulders, the pair slowly making their way out of work.

"Two hundred and fifty gold pieces." Mark managed to blurt out, releasing himself from Cordelia's grasp to steady himself on a table. "It was most of what I had. All I had left was twenty gold." Mark finally balanced himself and motioned for his friend to help him walk.

"And so you spent twenty gold here, didn't you." As Cordelia guessed, the bartender handed a bill over to her from the previous night's activities. "You racked up a fifty-five gold tab?!" She gave the tactician in her arms a sideways glance, before managing to retrieve her coin purse out and compensate the Dragon for his reckless drinking. "You really need to learn ow to stop yourself."

"Couldn't help it. Gave up." The pair made their way out the doors of the tavern and down the streets of the capital. With a lot of effort on Mark's part, they finally made it to the palace and up to Mark's room. "Thanks, Cordelia. You're a really…really shiny friend you know?" Mark gave a grin to the Pegasus knight as he half-fell into bed. Before she could even suggest he change out of his clothes into something more comfortable, he was face down asleep, snoring loudly into his pillow. She shook her head at him, before grabbing a roll of paper from the desk next to the bed and dipping a quill into a nearby inkwell. Quietly, she scratched a note explaining that Mark wasn't to be interrupted for any reason, other than war being declared. She gave a final look at the tactician to see if he was alive, then slipped out the door. Posting the note to the door, she hoped that Mark's bad luck ended today, along with his over excessive wagering. For now, she turned on her heels down the hallway, for there was an archer she wanted to see about two hundred gold he was carrying.


	14. Smile

It meant about 3 weeks without drinking, but it would be worth it. Mark opened the case of his new acquisition; a box looking instrument with bellows connecting two plates. The merchant who had sold it to him called it a Bandoneon, and the accordion cousin appealed to Mark instantly. It had come with a book of instructions for him, and soon he had affixed his hands to straps on each side of the instrument and pulled the sides apart. A low note came out and it brought a smile to Mark's face. He freed one of his hands to open the book that had come with the instrument. He turned to one of the first pages and found a diagram indicating where to press his fingers for which notes. As he began to adjust his fingers for the first note, Cordelia walked up to his tent and opened the entrance to look inside. "Mark? Can I talk to you about tom-…oh?!" She smiled as she saw the instrument in Mark's hands and heard the middle note that the bandoneon let out as the sides were pressed together. "Where did you get that?" Cordelia said excitedly, coming farther into the tent and sitting on Mark's nearby bed.

"From the merchant that was passing through. She had this on the counter, and I asked her about it." He pressed in and moved his fingers about so that a string of notes came out, each higher than the last. Cordelia beamed at the noise.

"My grandfather had an instrument kind of like this." She reminisced, a far look reflected in her eyes. "He used to play after dinner on Saturdays, every week. He used to play all kinds of music." She continued to smile as Mark figured out how to string basic notes together, looking at the bandoneon more as a gateway to past memories more than as an instrument. "He's why I learned how to play the harp. My grandfather inspired me to make music the way he…he used to." Cordelia stumbled on the last few words, and the tactician heard the breaking in her voice towards the end. He looked up in time for Cordelia to excuse herself, stand and walk out of the tent.

Mark didn't know anything about loss, really. Besides Emmeryn, he couldn't remember ever losing anyone if he ever had. He wished he could help his friend feel better, but didn't know just how to do it. Sighing, he turned the page, and before him the answer lay on the pages of the instruction book.

A few hours later, Cordelia sat in her tent, still trying to compose herself. Memories of her grandparents were bittersweet. They were there for some of her best times in her life, but many of those memories now were cold to her. Since her grandparents died three years ago, the world seemed darker at times. From outside her tent, she heard notes. Lifting her head, she saw a shadow standing outside her tent. She stood and opened the front to see Mark standing there, persuading basic strings of notes from his new instrument

"Smile, darn ya, smile

You know this great world is a good world after all

Smile, darn ya, smile

And right away watch lady luck pay you a call

Things are never black as they are painted

Time for you and joy to get acquainted

So make life worthwhile

Come on and smile, darn ya, smile"

Mark was doing his best to coax as good a sound from his voice as from the instrument, and Cordelia could tell he was struggling with the lyrics. Still, she couldn't help but smile at her friend's attempts, and laugh when his voice cracked towards the end of the song. Halfway through people started gathering around and listening, listening as intently as Cordelia was, smiling along with her. When he finished the crowd clapped for him, and the Pegasus knight came over and hugged her friend. She ducked under the bandoneon as it wrapped around her back. "Thanks, Mark," she whispered sincerely in his ear, "but your voice still needs a little work."


	15. Silence

Guard duty was tedious, but someone had to do it and Cordelia had taken the first shift. Being in a foreign land had put them all on edge, and the march towards Fort Steiger made everyone anxious. The Shepards took the liberty to take on extra food and alcohol rations as they approached one of their toughest fights to date to take the edge off. Cordelia had spent much of her time throwing herself into training to take her mind of the nerves, and even now her muscles ached as she patrolled around the tent town that the Shepards occupy on a regular basis. She patrolled with a lance on one hand and a lamp in the other, circling the camp over under the full moon. The midnight silence was beautiful; nature's orchestras played and the Pegasus knight was allowed the chance to listen to it for the first time in ages.

Meanwhile, in a tent towards the center of the camp, a tent was lit from the inside by a candle, as a lone man poured over maps and charts. Mark had been given schematics of Steiger that resistance spies had managed to mock up for them, and was attempting to decide from which entrance they'd plan their assault. He rubbed his temple, and put the quill in his hands down. He had been looking over logistics and the map for an hour now, and the silence inside the tent was starting to become deafening. He rose from his seat, licked his fingers and doused the candle.

Carefully, he stepped outside and let the cool air hit his face. He breathed in the new environment and looked around him. None of the tents around him had lights inside of them, and then in the distance a light caught his eye. Mark made his way down the makeshift road towards the light, and found the red haired knight with the lamp in her hands. As Cordelia noticed him, she smiled and raised her lance wielding hand in a wave. Mark lifted his hand back and began to walk in time with her. The pair walked a few laps around the camp, not speaking to each other as they went. They continued around for a half hour, before Mark nodded to his friend and took off back for his tent.

Mark finally got back his tent and sighed. The walk had cleared his head, and he wanted to set about his work once again. He lit the candle and sat over the map again. There were three entrances to the inside of the fortress, and why couldn't they simply go through all three entrances? If they stuck together as a group and struck quickly, they should be able to secure victory. Mark smiled as he began coordinating who would come through which doorway, and soon he was satisfied. Stretching, he snuffed the candle for the final time tonight, and fell into his cot to be taken off to sleep moments later.

An hour later, Virion came to change places with Cordelia. The archer was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as the Pegasus knight handed her lantern over. She walked quickly to her tent and stepped inside. She put her lance down and stripped her ivory armor. Even in the tent, she could hear the insects outside still calling to each other. AS she lay down to sleep, she appreciated the silence still, knowing that when she woke tomorrow, the silence would break and may not come to her again for a long while.


	16. Questioning

Below are the transcribed interviews of Cordelia and Mark on the date of [CLASSIFIED] concerning an incident that happened during the battle of [CLASSIFIED]. Each were asked the same questions, as were all other involved individuals. Mark's responses will be bolded, while Cordelia's are going to be italicized.

Please state your name and position for the record

 **Uhh…Mark…I'm Yllisse's primary strategist and acting second in command of current military actions.**

 _Cordelia, lead aerial knight in The Shepards of Yllisse. I'm in direct charge of all skybound soldiers._

And where were you on the date of [CLASSIFIED]

 **I mean, I was on the battlefield with the rest of the Shepards.**

 _Leading a contingent of my troops against the enemy we were engaged with on that day_

I see. Were you present for the incident involving a….Henry?

 **[He sighs as he shuffles nervously in his seat] Yes I was there for the…incident.**

 _I was there towards the endpoints of the encounter, sir._

Would you please tell us exactly what happened to the best of your abilities?

 **As we were advancing, a soldier of the opposite force dropped his weapon and began to flee. Not retreat, he fled away from either side of the battle. I was occupied with giving commands and signaling other parts of our army, so I saw nothing until I heard…the scream.**

 **When I turned I saw…I saw one of the legs of the retreating soldier ripped from his body like a doll. Henry stood over him with the leg in hand, saying something about getting a leg up in life. Thankfully, we were surrounded by amateur healers and the man survived, despite the loss of his leg permanently.**

 _When I arrived the area around the soldier was already covered in blood. As I dismounted, one of the members of the mage's division was doing her best to cauterize the wound and stop the soldier who had lost the blood. While stable, he still fell unconscious moments later. As this was happening, Henry was sitting on a nearby boulder, getting over a laughing fit with the soldier's leg in his hands. I volunteered to take the injured man from the battlefield, and assisted him onto my Pegasus moments later and brought him to our medical tent. Once the enemy had been routed, he was sent along his way to a location we can only assume he knew as friendly._

What is your opinion of Henry?

 **I think we all have our quirks…But sometimes I feel like his are more dangerous than the rest of ours.**

 _I believe that the man has no place in this army, or being allowed in any kind of civilized environment. He has proven to me multiple times to be quite unstable, despite how powerful and useful his magics are._

In your opinion, what should be done to reprimand Henry of his actions?

 **Well, this is the first incident of the kind coming from him. At least with another human. I feel like he may not understand the codes of conduct written down for combat. I should be able to reprimand him myself.**

 _Under the accords drawn up between Plegia and Yllisse twenty-four years ago, necessary violence on the battlefield is an unacceptable method. This includes both intentional dismemberment and assault on a retreating man or woman. I believe he should be expelled from this army and put into a cell._

Both questioned persons were released shortly after being question, after being thanked for their time.


	17. Blood

"Gah!" Mark dropped the lance he was holding as he clutched at his stinging face. As he removed his hand, he saw a line of red ran across his palm. A few drops of blood came from his left cheek and were hitting the polished floor of the corner of the barracks that Cordelia and he were occupying for sparring. The knight in front of him approached and used the blunt end of her weapon to deliever a blow to his stomach, buckling him over. Then a strike across his back with the shaft brought him to the ground. The tactician groaned as he turned over to find a lance tip pointed to his throat.

"The enemy wouldn't show quarter at a dropped lance in combat. I won't either." She had a stern expression on her face as she drew the lance away and extended her arm out to him. Taking it, he was lifted from the ground back upright. "Now, pick your weapon up and let's try again." Mark wielded the iron tipped polearm, and beckoned his teacher for the day towards him.

Cordelia began charging towards her friend spearhead first, and the weapon was deflected by Mark's own weapon. The pair began exchanging beats and thrusts with all parts of their tools, for a minute keeping all blows away from themselves. Finally, Mark feinted a sweep, but hooked his lance around to slash at Cordelia's arm. Preoccupied with blocking low, the iron caught the Pegasus rider in the arm, making an audible _Clang_ and buckling her arm. Mark pressed the advantage after that, and noticed Cordelia's stance had changed. She had gone from pressing strikes and advancing footwork to strikes aimed at distracting and a more solid stance, standing ground and trying to recover. As he continued his assault, blood started to come from Cordelia's arm and streamed down her armor. Soon, another blow caught Cordelia, this time in the leg. Her face now had strain and frustration on her face. Her swings had more force, and the blows Mark absorbed made the shaft of his lance vibrate. Ducking and dipping around the dangerous end of the weapon, Mark continued to lead Cordelia on, until she thrusted forward far enough that it struck the wall behind the dodging tactician. The lance fell from her hands, and she stood looking at Mark for a second, before lunging at him and grabbing the lance in the tactician's hands. The two struggled for the weapon, before the knight managed to twist the lance in such a way that she was behind Mark and the wood of the lance was wrapped to the tactician's throat. The man struggled to alleviate the pressure from the hold, and managed to keep a steady flow of air. Summoning what strength he had, the strategist hurled forward and brought Cordelia to the ground. Unable to keep his balance, Mark fell on top of his friend.

Their faces were now inches from each other, and both were breathing heavy. They sat there, weapons both discarded, until Mark abruptly stood up. He scratched the back of his head and looked away from Cordelia. "I…I think I could call that match a win for me. I'm…I'm going to…you should get your wounds looked at." He blurted put as he crossed the room and made his way out the door. The knight herself rose up and collected the lances on the ground. She was still breathing heavy, and her face was red. It wasn't red from an injury, or exhaustion however.


	18. Rainbow

The rain outside was subduing. Mark watched it from the balcony of his room as the rain lightened up from pounding to drizzling. His mind was swirling with a thousand thoughts at once, all of them focused on Cordelia. The incident that occurred during training a week ago _(highlighted in the previous chapter_ ) was still swimming vividly in his mind. He had been close to her, closer than he had ever been. Inches from her face, he got to see the stars that hid in her eyes and smelled the sweetness and flowers that hung about her. Even in the midst of combat, that scent took dominance over blood and sweat. Now, with the scent of rain finding him and overpowering the smell in his mind, he shook the thoughts from his head. What was he doing? A guy like him and Cordelia. Everyone knew that she liked Chrom, what chance did he have? He came back inside from his perch and pulled a book from his shelf. He sat down and began to flip through the pages, searching for the spot he left off on. Before he began to read, he looked out the open door once more to see the sun peeking out of the clouds. A rainbow began to shimmer in the sky, cutting across the doorway and heralding the sun's brighter entrance.

They hadn't spoken in a week, and Cordelia had felt like it was subconsciously intentional on the part of both parties. Once the rain had stopped, she made her way to the stables and found Catria. Bringing her pegasi out the stable doors and mounting her, she flew off away from the castle and towards the forming rainbow. He loved to ride right after a rainfall; the air had a great feeling against her face, and the skies were typically clear of any birds at this time. She was hoping that the ride would clear her of whatever this unexplainable feeling she was dealing with.

After training last week, she had gone to the medical station to get her arm and leg healed. While she was there, the cleric had pointed out her flush face and heartbeat. Cordelia had felt them, but she assumed it was from the exhausting training. Now, days later, she continued to feel them occasionally. Whenever she was eating and caught Mark out of the corner of her eye, talking to Ricken or Stahl or whoever it was, her heart began to skip beats again. What had he done to her? Was there a poison he put on his weapon during their fight? Was it a spell? She flew through the air, banking through the clouds and sweeping low around mountains. What was wrong with her? It was Mark's doing, though, and it was clear she had to get to the bottom of it. She pushed Catria on as she came back to the capital, the rainbow still strong in the sky. She found the balcony of Mark's room on one of the palace spires, and dismounted her steed, goading him to return to the stables. The door was open and the tactician was sitting inside, eyes on the open book. She strode inside and pulled the book away from the sitting man. "What did you do?!"

"Wh-what?" Mark sputtered back, Cordelia's sudden presence startling him, considering he had just gotten thoughts of the woman out of her mind. "Where did you come from?"

"I know you did something to me back when we were training!" The red haired woman shouted, brandishing the book like a weapon. "Admit it!"

"I…I didn't…what?" Mark was still confused about what she was talking about. What, did she mean when he hit her? This was way too confusing.

"Fine, don't admit it. But I'll figure it out." She huffed, before slamming the book into his lap and walked off. She shut the door hard behind him, making the trinkets the tactician kept on his wall. He sat there, still a bit in shock at what had just happened. He was staring forward, the rainbow outside shimmering as he stood up. His mind was swimming now, with the shouting and the loud bang from Cordelia slamming the door. But one thought still sat in his mind; her eyes were still shining like waves of the ocean.


End file.
